


Three Times Tony Stark Showed Captain America He Was Human (and the one time he could not care anymore.)

by orphan_account



Series: The Ghost Of You [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Civil War AU, Hurt No Comfort, I am so sorry, M/M, Warning suicide, but can be read as oneshot, part of a series, terribly sad, this is just Steve's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4013572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers does not mind when Tony Stark shows him weaknesses. He thinks them to be Tony, and therefore, they are inconsequential.</p><p>But Tony Stark only shows him weakness three times.</p><p>And those are the only three times.</p><p>Part of a series but can be read as a oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Tony Stark Showed Captain America He Was Human (and the one time he could not care anymore.)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! By demand, I have written Steve's POV of my other fic, The Three Times Tony Stark Showed Weakness (and the one time he didn’t.) You can read this (or the other one) as oneshots, though! 
> 
> It is depressing, and I am so sorry.

Steve Rogers was in love with Tony Stark. There, he said it. Does he get a reward?

It is a realization that dawned on him slowly. But, of course, there was a catch as there always is, and Steve Rogers remains the world’s leading authority on waiting too long.

This story is not a fairytale of how the two unlikely friends became more than friends. It is not even a story of love and happiness. It is a story that serves to remind Steve Rogers that he is, in fact, destined to a life of loneliness. Because he was in love with Tony- but he isn’t in love with him anymore.

This is a collection of the times Tony Stark showed him that he was human, and the one time he could not care anymore. He supposes that was his fault, too.

**XxX**

Steve opens the door to Tony’s workshop and walks in, worriedly, because Tony had not come out for the past twenty-eight hours (according to Friday), and he also had not turned up for the Avengers alarm that had sounded throughout the building at noon. “Tony?”

Tony turns around, looking dishevelled and messy. His hair stands up in all directions. His eyes are frightened and they dart wildly around the room. Steve looks at him, even more anxious than before. “Hey, Tony. You okay?”

Tony turns back to a mess of tangled wires and strings of holographic code. “Not really,” he chokes. “Why was the Avenger’s alarm sounded?” Tony asks, a hand clutching at his chest.

Steve shrugs. “Minor alien attack, just up northwest. Wanda and Pietro are dealt with it- they were the first on scene.”

Tony nods, and laughs almost hysterically. “Aliens. Again. Are all aliens hostile? I watched Doctor Who. Aliens? Aliens. It is always aliens, of course. Fucking aliens.”

Steve looks over him, his face overcast, eyes stormy. “Tony?”

He gives a small gasp when Tony’s legs suddenly give way and he collapses to the ground, his head knocking against the ground. Steve darts forward and falls to his knees besides Tony, recognising the signs of an anxiety attack. He places a hand on the side of Tony’s face and looks into his eyes, the colour of whiskey and coffee, Tony’s favourite drinks- just not together.  “Shh,” Steve says, and sits cross-legged on the floor next to Tony. He pulls the jittering Tony into his lap and holds him tightly. “Take deep breaths, Tony. You’re doing fantastic.”

Tony’s hands clench and unclench on Steve’s shirt, the crispness of the button shirt already getting wrinkled by his frantic hands. “That’s it,” says Steve, encouragingly. “Relax.”

Steve can feel Tony calming down, slowly. Tony buries his face in the crook of his neck and Steve can feel Tony’s breaths on his neck. Tony smells like wires and metal and sweat, and while normally this would not be a particularly enjoyable smell, Steve loves it, loves it because it is Tony, and it summarises everything that Tony is.  

Tony does not let go of him, not even ten minutes after, and Steve is alright with that. Why wouldn’t he be?  Steve doesn’t let go either.

**XxX**

Steve’s feet pound against the carpeted floorway as he runs towards Tony’s room, his mind fixated on only one thing: get there fast enough. Friday, the ever increasing sentient AI informed Steve that Tony had just put a gun in his mouth, and that image was enough to propel him out of bed and out the door in a second. He climbed the stairs two at a time- the lift was all the way on level one, and he was on level eight. He ran up the stairs, panting, and turned down the hallway to Tony’s room. He can hear loud orchestra music coming from the door, and he slams into it- and finds it locked. Of course.

He slams his body into it again, and again, until finally the door gives way and Steve topples into the room, a mountain of hurt and anger. He sees the gun and Tony’s finger and allows his trajectory to continue, slamming into Tony and shoving him up against the wall. The gun and a glass of whiskey fall to the ground, the glass shattering into musical bits.

“Tony-” Steve gasps. “Tony, fucking hell, don’t you ever do that to me again.”

“Why? It is not like anyone would miss me,” Tony says, and means it. He looks at Steve with empty eyes. “No one needs Iron Man anymore.”

Steve glares at him, his blue eyes almost watery. How should he convey the panic and the fear that had exploded when Friday had told him? How does he best tell Tony how much his chest hurts when Tony thinks he is not worth it? “I do. I need you. I need you to be alive and to come downstairs with fire in your eyes and power in your hands. I need you to come to me, at night, with a piece of technology which you proceed to describe in detail, and I listen because you love it so much it is worth it to hear the joy in your voice and the lilt in your walk.”

Tony looks at him, his eyes dead. “You need me?”

Steve looks at him seriously, his hands moving from pinning Tony’s arms above his head to his waist, and he pulls Tony against him slowly. “I always need you,” he says, and Tony believes him. “Don’t you ever go away.”

“I won’t,” Tony says and slowly hugs him back. “For you.”

**XxX**

Fire raged all around them.  Steve was finding it hard to breathe, the smoke and the pain culminated into him barely fighting consciousness. “Please,” Tony says, and his voice catches on the last word, his voice is hoarse, and sad. Steve hates it. “Please stay down, Cap. I can’t- I don’t want to hit you anymore. Please just- please.”

What happened to his best friend, his lover? Why? Why had it become like this- when one had to lose to win. When winning was in itself, losing. Steve looks at him with fire in his eyes and power in his hands. He stands up painfully, his right eye swollen, bleeding from multiple wounds, sporting a broken nose and a split lip, and stares him down. “I can do this all day.” He says, and he means it.

Tony readies for the final punch, and then falters. His hand falls back to his side. “I can’t.”

 _What do you mean, you can’t?_ Steve thinks, angry and upset. _Finish the mission. You are Tony Stark. You are a cold machine_.

Steve stares at him, unfeelingly.

“God- I can’t hit you anymore, okay? I am a fucking loser. Let it be known to the world,” Tony practically sobs, and Steve’s chest constricts almost painfully. “Tony Stark lost because he couldn’t hit Captain America again.”

Steve grinds his teeth, he won’t win. “Finish the mission, Stark.”

Tony looks at him, and his eyes aren’t whiskey anymore, they’re black holes. “Do you remember when you complained that you could hardly see the stars, so we went camping together, in the middle of nowhere?”

Steve bites his lip. He can remember that- he remembers it so well, in fact, that it has not gotten out of his head. The way that Tony’s eyes reflected the stars, the sheer delight at being alone, the crispness of the pine air and the feel of the pine needles crunching beneath his feet.

“I loved it so much. I loved you so much, and now- now this is what I have been building up to? I can’t hit you anymore, Steve,” Tony steps out of the suit, dry-sobbing, and his anger is hard and cold and dry.  “What now?”

“Now?” Steve asks, his voice tight, his anger which he had worked so hard to control riles up inside of him, spoiling for a fight. “You lied to me. You said you weren’t funding, weren’t working for the opposition. You lied to me, Tony Stark. So now, I am going to beat you bloody.”

Steve throws the first punch to Tony’s nose, and while he was going to stop there, he finds his hands continuously punching him, not holding back, and all he can think of is god, why me.

**OoO**

Steve runs to the jail cell, the alarm whirring methodically. Tony is escaping, but the security feed sparks something more than escaping. The security  feed speaks of finality.

Tony Stark sits in a jail cell, six months after Steve Rogers nearly beat him to death. He holds a revolver in his hands and sits, waiting, for Steve to turn up.

The bars are pulled aside roughly, and Steve charges in. He stops when he sees the dead guard and the revolver. “Tony- what are you doing?” He asks, dumbfounded.

Tony angles the gun at him and fires, and the bullet pierces a network of nerves, and Steve falls to the ground. He cannot move. The pain is blasting throughout his system. He tries to move, but cannot. He can’t even move his fingers.

Tony looks at him sorrowfully. “Don’t bother trying to move,” he says, as an introductory. “I have five more minutes till SWAT arrives, so listen up, Steve.”

“I have been weak, all my life,” he begins, and Steve watches in mute horror. No. No, no no no. “I hesitated the last time. I won’t again.”

“I meant it when I said I couldn’t hurt you. I really did. I didn’t mean to lie to you- but I really didn’t agree. Was it worth all of this, Steve?” He gestures to his prison uniform and his useless right leg. Steve hadn’t meant to hurt him that badly. He didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Tony- “Was it?”

Steve can feel the serum kicking in, and his hands twitch. “Tony- don’t do it. Please. For me, Tony. For me you said. You said for me.”

Tony looks on over at him as he places the gun in his mouth. “You don’t need me anymore,” he smiles slightly.  “This time, I am not going to be weak.”

“Tony!”

It is too late, and one of the greatest minds in the world ends up spattered on the grey wall of a prison holding cell.

Steve roars with pain and hurt, staring at the unseeing eyes of his best friend, and he holds on to the feeling of what it was to hug and to kiss him, and to feel loved in return. He holds onto the feeling of Tony Stark, even after he is already gone. His body must still be warm.


End file.
